Cold wind at every corner
by DeathcookieAngel17
Summary: Reagen Coonor is wandering around Virginia, asking herself night and day if she'll die that day. If not now - then when will it come? The answer she gets it's confusing, unexpected, not something she really wanted but what can she say. Hunters has many tricks in their pockets, much more in their brain. First person/smut/slow burn/Warning slow author


_**REAGEN  
**_ Approximately 547+ days in & I'm still alive?

 _Is this the day I'll die?_

This is the question that I keep asking myself whenever I wake up and find out that I'm still alive.  
In the morning when I search for food all the while trying to keeping my distance from walkers. When I'm by the fire, spending the most of the time scheduling my meals and saving food instead of eating it. At night when I'm lying somewhere wide awake, whether it's down on the ground or high up in a tree, listening for any groans or screams.

 _Is it today? Will I stop being a wandering prey?  
And if not today - when?_

I'm asking myself this specific question now, when I'm standing in a small field of torn stomachs and guts. Even though the heavy and festering smell of fresh corpses is still lurking in the air, my stomach doesn't find a reason to throw up my last meal - that is if my stomach had something to throw up to even begin with. Killing Biters or (-whatever they're called) has gotten me used to the sight and smell of blood. That doesn't mean however that my nose and my brain has stopped thinking of it as an assaulting and putrid smell to take in. I look down and instantly grimace at the sight of my 'new' shoes and jeans that are now basically caked in blood.

 _And these babies were brand new too._

I just let out a disappointed sigh and try to scrub off any remaining dry blood. Fashion isn't important nowadays but I want to use my supplies to their fullest potential. Although when it comes to clothing or food that doesn't really matter nowadays as these clothes aren't from a raid or any of some sort. The shoes and jeans I'm wearing are from a functional community (or so I've been told) called Alexandria. I would say it's rather close then far from where I'm standing (if you can call 20 miles away close).

The donor is an Alexandrian called Aaron. If I would describe him in 3 words it would be good-natured, adventurous and surprisingly bullheaded. He and his partner in crime, also obviously boyfriend Eric, has been trying recruiting me for the past month (-or weeks). Apparently, they've been following me a few days and planned to come to light a week after finding me. They had shifted to plan B as I got cornered by a few Biters and was too weak to fight them off due to my fever at the time. I was grateful and still am for them nursing me back to health but I remained uninterested as they told me and showed me photos of this so-called "friendly and functional community".

 _The last community I trusted turned out to be a real shit hole - and I was lucky enough to escape from it._

But even though my dislike of communities and groups were strong and my temper wasn't really the nicest, it didn't deter Aaron from putting aside his community duties in order to help me or simply just talk. It was hard for me in the beginning as I'm not usually the chatty person by nature and it has been a long time. I also found it annoying as he intervened with my thinking but now I've grown used to it. Aaron wasn't a clueless human being so he knew what topics not to bring up during our conversations. Now and then they would even bring me supplies when their home had enough over; it could vary from chocolate bars, homemade cookies, bottles of water to small portions of home-cooked meals. Sometimes, they'd even force new clothes or soap on me whenever I stunk too much or my clothes took too much of resemblance to strippers by each passing day. Why 2 gay males would care about my appearance is beyond me.

I clear up the bloody scene that has played out on the field. I dig up a hole for the I count 10 Biters with my shovel and dump them in. I don't have a cross (neither am I planning to build one) so I simply draw one on the dirt with my finger. I also write in some random names - such as Lucy, Maria, Walker _**(no pun** **intended)**_ , John, Eli, Theodore, Sarah, Connor, Elanor, and Victor.

When I'm finished with my artwork I open up my backpack and pack my knives that are in need of a cleaning after been used for causing a blood bath. I'm just about to zip it close but my eyes spot a Walkie Talkie deep in there and I dig it up. I check if the batteries that Aaron and Eric gave me a week ago are still functioning and it appears they are. I want to put it back but it's stuck in my hands - as well as in my steady gaze.

I bite my lip. "It's very easy thing to do, Rey." I tell myself. "It's no use telling holding on to your pride. Just flip the switch, tell Aaron that "you're sorry and to come over and at least hi." _Or something like that._

Like a third grader, I argue with myself on whether I should do it or not. I hate to admit it but thanks, Aaron's company, I have grown self-aware of my true feelings of loneliness. Aaron's absence started around 2 weeks ago after we had a small "fight" and we'd stopped seeing each other since then (or rather I've been avoiding him). At first, I was overjoyed as I would avoid those pestering speeches about the heaven called Alexandria but I guess this was the bullet to trigger the change of heart in me. The walkie talkie has been gifted to me as a tool of them knowing my whereabouts whenever they were out. Only them. Not some Nicholas, not some Aiden. **Just them**.

"I should've done more than breaking Nicholas' nose and given Aideen a nice black eye." I mumble to myself. Shacking of my irritation, I decide that I'll try contacting Aaron tomorrow in the afternoon. But just as I'm about to shove it down for real this time, the Talkie came to live and Aaron's nervous yet calm voice came through a tinny static;

" _Ray?..._ "

* _Jizz Jizz*_

 _"RAY? Can you hear me?."_

I've heard Aaron sounding nervous before. When he told me what he thought was a good joke but it was a complete flop and I gave him a grimace in response, the time I had a fever and nearly fainted on him, when we argued which is also the last time I spoke with him. But this voice sounded so new to me - even if it came from the same person. The groans in the background aren't so reassuring either.

"Aaron, I can hear you," I confirm as calmly as I can. "What is-"

"In any case, it doesn't really matter if you do cause I'm pretty sure you'll just ignore this."

I can hear something or rather some _things_ bank numerously on something that sounds as a flat surface. Perhaps glass or a wall, perhaps a door of some sorts? There's something of a long pause before Aaron starts to speak again.

"Right now, both me and Daryl are in trouble."

"Who the hell is Daryl?"

"We're trapped in a car, that's is now surrounded by walkers, Biters in your choice of speech. We're about 50 miles away from Alexandria. Our location is the warehouse Del Arno Foods parking spot. I know we left on bad terms and I know I'm asking a lot but if you hear this," Aaron takes another pause. "can you please inform Alexandria about this."

"Huh? Ugh What the hell Aaron?!." I roar into the mic as loud as possible. "And yes, you're asking pretty much of me!" I add on. I don't expect really much of an answer as it seems he can't hear me. Good for him.

"Hey Reagen." the call of my name makes me turn my attention back to the radio.

"I'm sorry." the call ends and I'm left speechless. I'm just standing there, staring at the radio, hoping for Aarons voice to come to life again but it remains silent. I don't know exactly how long I'm standing there but soon I hear a groan behind me. I don't need to turn to see what it is. It's a Biter, or in other speech manners, a Walker.

I just ignore it and go back to my decision making.  
My hard decision making.

* * *

A story I came up with during English class. I don't know if it's good or not. That's why reviews are highly appreciated, but of course are likes and favorites too. Now grammar wise, mistakes will occur and if something is unclear, I apologize. I'm writing this around 3 o'clock in the morning so I'm tired... Too lazy for correction. I hope my OC doesn't seem somewhat weird, insane, stupid, irritatable, etc. cause, to be honest, I've based her on myself. I always tend to think the worst at hand, I always change my mind and trusting people is something I find hard. Ahh, school - my (not something new) hell and the birth of all my social problems.

Anyways, enjoy the story!  
Ps. Wander the Dead Line WILL COME SOON. Just be more patient and give this 17-year-old a break... Not want to brag or earn sympathy but this girl (points at myself) hasn't slept in 3-4 days, DAYS


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